If Time were a lady, she’d dance in a gown,
Of seconds and minutes, her crown,
She’d twirl with the hours, in an endless waltz,
With a smile that never halts.
Her eyes would hold wisdom, deep as the sea,
With a gaze that sets the future free,
She’d whisper of moments, both bitter and sweet,
In a rhythm set by her gentle feet.
She’d be a mother, a friend, a guide,
With arms that open wide,
To embrace every soul on its earthly ride,
Through seasons that bloom and subside.
Yet, she’d be firm, with a stern hand,
Marking every grain of sand,
For time waits for none, she’d firmly stand,
A testament to life’s grand plan.
In her path, flowers bloom and fade,
Empires rise and are unmade,
She’s the painter of destiny’s shade,
In the canvas of existence laid.